Hear Me Roar
by LordTheo
Summary: AU. Instead of the Greyjoy Rebellion, Tywin Lannister rebelled against the Iron Throne. Joanna Lannister did not die giving birth to Tyrion, and Tywin had another son named Tybolt. How will his presence change events in Westeros? Eventual OC/Sansa.
1. Prologue

_Disclaimer: ASOIAF rights belong to George R. R. Martin. This is Fan Fiction. I own nothing but the character I have created._

_**Hear Me Roar**_

Tywin Lannister, Lord of the Westerlands and King of the Rock, looked out upon the sea of men that were camped outside the gates of Casterly Rock from the window of his solar. One year ago he had declared himself the King of the Rock, as his forebears had been known before Aegon's Conquest; but he, the great Tywin Lannister, had underestimated King Robert Baratheon and his appetite for war, and his forces had been killed, captured or pushed back to the ancestral seat of the Lannisters and he was slowly becoming more and more convinced that the only way to save the lives and reputation of his family was to surrender to the host amassed before him. If he did that, then maybe the Strong Stag would stay his hand and allow the Lannisters to survive.

He was interrupted from his thoughts by the appearance of his youngest son, Tybolt. Tybolt was tall for a boy of six years, with the emerald green eyes and brilliant golden hair of the Lannisters. His handsome face, framed by his wavy, shoulder-length, mess of golden hair, lit up when he saw his father. Running over to him, Tybolt embraced his father, nuzzling his head into the older man's chest once Tywin bent down.

"Tybolt." he said, resting his head upon his son's head. "What brings you up here?"

"I came to see the bad men Father." he replied innocently as he looked up at his father's face. "Are they going to hurt us?" he continued, a worried look spreading across his face. Tywin hesitated a moment before answering his son.

"Not if I can stop them my son. Not if I can stop them." he said, his expression betraying his fear.

Tywin stood, turning to the guards stationed at the door. "Send a herald to the leader of their army. Tell them that I am willing to discuss terms for our surrender."

"At once, Your Grace." the guard said, turning to carry out his master's orders.

At his father's words, Tybolt's worried look turned to one of indignation. "But Father! We must not surrender to them! We are Lions and Lions do not bend the knee to lesser men! You told me that!" he cried, tears welling up in his eyes.

"I know. And it is true. Lions do _not_ bend the knee to lesser men. But we must also ensure that our pride survives, and if we continue to fight then our pride will die. And the Lions will be no more. So you must understand why I do this my son...my heir. You must understand that surrendering to Robert Baratheon will allow our family to survive and hopefully flourish." he said seriously, looking his young son in the eyes. Tywin could net help but notice how similar in temperament Tybolt was to Joanna, his wife. "_Joanna...beautiful Joanna. My wife. My love. Oh how I wish you were not taken from us...from me. From our children." _he thought wistfully. She had died four years ago, when Tybolt was two, from a fever that had torn through her body and left her as a dried husk of her former self. _"That is why I must surrender. For our children Joanna, you must understand that what I do, I do for our children."_ Tywin thought, begging his dead wife's memory to understand.

As he talked to his wife in his head, the guard burst into the room having come as fast as he could, bearing news for his King.

"Your Grace. Robert Baratheon says that he will meet you." he panted, gasping for breath.

"Very well." Tywin muttered, before turning to his son. "Tybolt, you must accompany me. You must be there to learn what it is like to taste defeat. I hope that by seeing the dishonour it brings, you will learn never to underestimate your enemies." he said to his son. Then Tywin knelt next to his son, comforting him. "Tybolt you must be strong in front of them," he said as he wiped the tears from Tybolt's face, "and you cannot show any fear. You will rule the Westerlands one day and no one can be allowed to doubt you. Least of all your banner-men, and they will all be there to witness the surrender. Do you understand?"

Tybolt sniffed, straightening his back. "Yes Father. I will be strong."

"Good boy. And know this my son...you may be taken from me as a hostage, to ensure my good conduct if they accept my surrender and allow me to keep my head. If you are, then you must not cry and you must not look weak. You must accept it, as I too must accept it, with grace and display no sadness. You are a Lion and no one can think that you are weak." Tywin said, gathering his son into a hug.

"I will do as you say Father..." Tybolt said with a sob.

"I know you will." Tywin said sadly. "Now then. Let us go and meet the famous Strong Stag." he said as he stood, taking his son's hand in his own and walking out the door.

…

Lord Eddard Stark stood in the Great Hall of Casterly Rock waiting for Tywin Lannister, the self-styled King of the Rock. Although he was surrounded by his guards and the guards of his closest friend and King, he could still not help but feel vulnerable; after all, Tywin Lannister was not known for his honour. But it appeared that he would be unharmed for the time being, as the Lord of Casterly Rock strode through the doors to his hall, followed closely by someone that could only be his son. The boy had the famous Lannister features, with golden hair and dazzlingly green eyes, and a proud and regal look upon his face. Eddard noticed how similar the boy looked to his father, and how proudly he carried himself. Yet despite the boy's behaviour, Eddard could see that the boy had been crying; that is if the puffy eyes were anything to go by.

"Tywin Lannister." Robert Baratheon said in a voice filled with loathing. "You are a traitor. Tell me now why I should not take your head. Or your son Jaime's head. Or even this one's head!" Robert shouted furiously, the famed Baratheon fury surfacing.

To his credit, the defeated Lannister did not look away, nor did he appear fazed by the outburst. Instead he stayed calm and collected. "Because the West can only be ruled by a Lannister. A Lannister male. And the Lords would never accept my other son Tyrion." he said, in an iron and emotionless voice. Despite his own reputation as a cold man, Eddard shivered at the cold reply.

Robert grunted, wanting it to be bravado, but deep down he knew it to be true.

"Very well. I will not kill you. I'll even let you remain Lord of Casterly Rock. But your rebellion will not go unpunished. You will pay the crown three million golden dragons or I will mount your head on the walls of the Red Keep. Do you understand?" Robert commanded.

Tywin was relieved that he only had to pay recompense; three million dragons was a small amount compared to the wealth of the Westerlands and he would keep his son. Tywin moved to kneel before Robert, but Robert opened his mouth to continue.

"Your son here, will also be taken as a hostage to ensure your compliance until he has his eighteenth name-day. Lord Stark will foster him at Winterfell." At those words, Tywin's hopes were dashed. His son would be taken from him after all.

"Very well." he whispered. He knelt in front of Robert and hung his head in shame. "I, Tywin of the House Lannister do accept these terms and accept you as my King." Once Tywin had finished his oath, he stood and turned to his son, betraying no emotion. Robert turned and walked out of the hall, followed by his Kingsguard. Eddard remained, watching the former King and his son.

"Remember, you are a Lion and the Lion does not concern himself with lesser men." Tywin said before walking away. He stopped for a moment however and turned to face his son once more. "Farewell, my son." Tywin said before finally walking out of his hall, defeated and alone.

Eddard went over to the boy to lead him away from his home, and perhaps to comfort him if he needed to. He reached out his arm to hold the young child's shoulder, but was violently pushed away by the boy.

"Do not touch me _Lord Stark." _Tybolt spat, with hate that was unbecoming for a child of his age. But then again he was being taken away from his home. "I am a Lion and as such do not need your help." he said. At that, Tybolt straightened his back and, with his head held high, walked out of the Great Hall and towards his future. As he watched him go, one thought was prevalent in his mind. _"He's going to be trouble."_

**Hi guys, a new story here. If you like it leave a review, and if you think that I could make improvements then just let me know.**

**Don't worry I haven't abandoned "A True Baratheon", I just got writer's block and this helped me get over it. The next chapter for both stories should hopefully be out by the end of the week.**

**Thanks for reading guys, I really hope you enjoyed it!**


	2. Tybolt

**Italicised speech is thought.**

_Ten years later..._

Tybolt sat on a window sill looking down on the castle with emotionless, discerning, emerald-green eyes. He had sat here every day at the crack of dawn, since his arrival at Winterfell, to watch the sun rise over the horizon. From his commanding position near the top of the highest tower in Winterfell, his view encapsulated much of the land south of the Stark's ancestral seat of power and yet he looked only in one, single direction: to the Westerlands, to the Rock, to his home. It had become a ritual for Tybolt, one which he completed every day without fail. There was, however, more to it than simply watching the sunrise.

"I am Tybolt Lannister. I am a Lion and a Lion bows to none except his own." Tybolt whispered.

He had said these words since the day he was taken from his home, since before he had even laid eyes upon this great, Northern castle. The words had become Tybolt's mantra, the anchor around which his entire psyche and personality had been built and remoulded since that fateful day ten years ago. But it was only on his first morning in Winterfell, as the sun began to poke its iridescent fingers over the hills, that he had finally understood the words his father had said to him.

"Our pride has tasted defeat. Our pride has been humiliated by simpletons and simpering fools. Our pride has been betrayed. Our pride has served lesser men. But one day, one day soon, we will rise with a fury unmatched by any living being and we will crush our enemies – and they will know death. And the Lion _will _be free. This I swear on the Seven." he growled to himself.

Now that the sun had risen and he had finished saying his oaths, Tybolt rose from his seat at the window and descended the spiralling stairs to his room. As he did so the castle began to come to life, shrugging off the moroseness that suffocated it at night and ushering in the warmth and joy that seemed to accompany each new day, even here in the North. Servants began to fill the corridors, hurrying along along on their errands, cooks carried food to the kitchens, heaped so precariously in their arms it looked as if the pile would topple over at any second. Even the sounds of a hammer striking an anvil came drifting up from the courtyards. As he reached his room, Tybolt reached out and grabbed a servant, commanding her in a gentle yet firm voice to bring hot water for a bath. With a quick curtsey and with her cheeks reddening, the young serving girl hurried off to complete her task.

Closing the door behind him, Tybolt smiled to himself; he he had the same effect on almost every girl he spoke to. His devilishly handsome face with his chiselled jawline, high cheekbones and aquiline nose, coupled with his emerald-green eyes and shoulder-length wavy hair which shone like beaten gold (standard Lannister features really), sent shivers down girls' spines and impure thoughts into their heads when he turned his piercing gaze upon them. He was tall too, and as strong as a bull; at just ten and six years of age, he already stood as tall as Lord Stark (though the man wasn't small, neither was he a giant) and his appearance was made even more impressive by his heavily muscled body, honed almost to perfection by years of relentless training in the practice yard. He could quite easily be mistaken for an angel, and one visiting Septon had even said that he resembled the Warrior.

As he stood, thinking about his effect on the fairer sex, there was a timid knock at the door. Opening it, the serving girl was revealed, holding in her hands a large pitcher full of hot water water, and, standing behind her, were four more serving girls, each one bearing identical pitchers, all filled to the brim with steaming hot water. He stood aside to allow them in and watched them with an appraising and salacious eye as they bent over to fill the bathtub.

"_Tyrion would be proud!" _Tybolt thought to himself, laughing inwardly. Tyrion's exploits and fondness for whores had been a recurring part of his father's frequent letters, which were always accompanied by an urging from Tywin to stay away from the ones in Winterfell, lest he dishonour the family name as Tyrion had supposedly done. Frankly, Tybolt couldn't see why his father got so irate about it and thought that Tyrion's proclivity to indulge in more hedonistic pursuits sounded rather amusing.

Once they had finished their task, they stood together staring at Tybolt, with dreamy expressions painted across their faces. Smirking, he held the door open for them, clearing his throat loudly; they snapped out of their daze almost instantly and, making a beeline for the door, left the room, giggling to each other. Now that he was finally alone, Tybolt stripped off his nightclothes and climbed into the bath, exhaling loudly as the hot water soothed his muscles. After soaking for half an hour, Tybolt washed himself with scented soap, then promptly climbed back out and dried himself. His body dry, he then proceeded to wash and then shave his face before turning to his wardrobe.

He briskly dressed himself in a white linen shirt, a crimson surcoat embroidered with gold thread (a name-day gift from his father) and supple leather riding trousers, dyed a rich burgundy colour. Then he pulled on a pair of silk socks and then over that, he pulled on a pair of black, fur-lined boots. Standing up, he swung a black moleskin half-cape lined with white ermine fur, over his left shoulder. Yet despite the warmth of the clothes he was wearing, he would still feel the cold bite of the summer snows which had covered Winterfell and the surrounding area like a blanket for the past three weeks.

After a quick glance in his looking-glass to make sure that he was looking respectable, he fastened the clasp of his cape (a lion's head fashioned from gold) and walked out of his room and down to where Lord Stark's family would be breaking their fast, looking for all the world as if he was already the Lord of the West.

…

Before Tybolt had even entered the Great Hall, he could hear the cacophony that always seemed to accompany any news brought to Winterfell that was of considerable significance. Walking in, he headed straight for the High Table to his usual seat next to Lord Stark's heir, Robb, and his bastard, Jon Snow.

"Morning!" Tybolt said cheerfully to the two boys, before pulling out his chair to sit down. Just as he was doing so, however, he saw that Sansa was sitting at the table with her friend, Jeyne.

"Good morning milady. I hope you slept well?" he said with a smile and a slight inclination of his head.

At his greeting, Sansa nodded, mumbled something incoherent and, blushing furiously, turned to Jeyne and began a hushed conversation with many furtive looks at Tybolt and many, many giggles from Jeyne. For Tybolt, women had never evoked anything more than base desire – something which he had satisfied with a kitchen maid the year previously. Sansa, however, was the exception. When Tybolt had first come to Winterfell, it was Sansa who had comforted him when he felt lonely or scared. Their shared faith in the Seven had served to bring them closer together, but a few years ago when Sansa had begun to grow into her womanhood, they had grown apart; this was, as far as Tybolt could tell, because she had developed feelings for him which were far from platonic. Indeed, Tybolt had also developed feelings for her which went beyond simple friendship.

And yet, despite the fact that they now conversed with a distance akin to that of strangers or passing acquaintances, Tybolt harboured the thought that one day in the future, Sansa would make a good wife and further still, a good Lady of the West; she was after all, the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.

Shaking himself from his reverie, he sat and nodded at a servant who went scurrying away to the kitchens to fetch the young lord's breakfast. The signal appeared to have initiated a flurry of activity and servants came out of the kitchens with food balanced in their hands. Tybolt's breakfast (which had remained essentially the same for the last three years) consisted of a bowl of piping hot porridge, one boiled egg, three pieces of crisp bacon, two pieces of bread toasted over the fire and a flagon of cold milk to wash it all down.

Beginning his meal, Tybolt carefully ate a spoonful of porridge before turning to Robb.

"What's all this fuss about then?" he asked.

"It would seem," Robb said grimly, "that my father's men have captured a deserter from the Night's Watch. We will ride out within the hour to see justice brought upon him."

Tybolt nodded slowly; he had watched several men lose their heads for breaking their sacred vows, and the thought of seeing another man die did not disturb him in the slightest. As he ate, he thought back to the first time he had seen a man die. It was two years after he came to Winterfell and the man was a deserter from the Wall. He had begged Lord Stark to have mercy, even kissed his boots, but Lord Stark had remained impassive throughout the charade and taken the man's head soon after. Tybolt had garnered a new-found respect for the Northern lord after that.

…

After an hours riding through the snow, the small party consisting of Lord Stark, his guards, his three eldest sons (Robb, Jon and Bran) and Tybolt, came to where the deserter was being held. As the man was led out and Lord Stark began the same, droning speech that he made every time before he brought the King's Justice to someone, Tybolt zoned out and cast his mind back to the somewhat cryptic raven he had received two days ago from his brother Tyrion.

_**Be careful brother. I have a terrible feeling that everything is about to change, and it may not all be for the better. Keep yourself safe.**_

_**Your loving brother,**_

_**Tyrion**_

"_Whatever it means, it must be serious for Tyrion to be so short and sombre." _Tybolt pondered. _"I should heed his warning though. He was always the cleverest of -"_ Tybolt's thoughts were interrupted by a loud, wet 'Thwack', as Lord Stark brought his greatsword down on the man's neck. _"He was quicker than usual." _Tybolt mused with a wry smile.

Looking around, Tybolt saw Jon quietly talking to Bran, most likely reassuring him. Robb had on his 'Lord's face' and sat on his horse stoically and unflinching. Lord Stark had given his greatsword, Ice, to the captain of his guard and mounted his horse.

"Send the head and body back to the Wall." he said, turning his head to the soldiers before leading his party back the way they came.

…

After another half an hour's riding, the party came to a long but narrow stone bridge, spanning a small gorge. Robb pulled his horse up beside Tybolt and looked at him with a grin, any and all hints of his grim composure gone.

"Race you to the other side?" he said excitedly.

Tybolt flashed a grin back. "What's the point Robb? You know you can't win!"

Robb smirked in response. "Oh yes? We'll see about that!" he said, spurring his horse into a gallop.

Following suit, with a determined grin on his face, Tybolt urged his horse forward, digging in his heels and sending up clouds of white snow behind him. Robb's horse was also sending plumes of snowy powder into the sky, but he was simply unable to keep his lead, such was the speed at which Tybolt rode. Like a crimson arrow, Tybolt shot past Robb and over the end of the bridge. Tybolt's racing heart had already slowed by the time Robb pulled his horse up next to him.

"Damn you Tybolt! How do you do it?!" he panted.

"Well," Tybolt said with a cocky smile, "all that did was finally prove that the Lion is better than the Wolf!"

"Direwolf." Robb said with a disgruntled look. "And when we get back to Winterfell, I'll show you how a Stark fights!" he said, pride showing on his face at the mention of his House.

Tybolt smirked but quickly frowned when he saw that Robb was staring at something behind him.

"What is it?" Tybolt said as he turned. "What are you..." he said, his voice trailing off as he saw exactly what it was.

Lying on the snow, was a huge animal with a stag's antler in its neck, staining the snow around it red with blood. At first glance it looked like a normal wolf, but upon further inspection, and seeing the long snout and long legs, Tybolt knew with a cold certainty what the animal was.

"A direwolf." he whispered reverently. As he stared at it, the rest of the party came up behind them. Lord Stark dismounted and knelt next to the direwolf.

"It's dead." he said.

"What should we do with it?" Robb asked.

"Nothing. We leave it." Lord Stark replied. "We need to get back to Winterfell. Let us go." he said as he stood.

But Tybolt had heard a faint mewling and followed the sound, straining his ears as hard as he could. Cresting a small rise in the ground, he caught sight of five little pups lying in a small hollow.

"Lord Stark!" he called. "You will want to see this." As he spoke, Robb and Bran had joined Tybolt and, upon seeing the little pups, rushed towards them and picked them up.

"Direwolf pups father! Can we keep them?" Robb asked. His father looked as if he wanted to say no, but he relented.

"Very well. But you will feed them yourselves, train them yourselves and if they die, you will bury them yourselves." he said with finality. Turning around, he re-mounted his horse and set off for Winterfell.

…

It was when they returned that Tybolt instantly felt something was wrong. Lady Catelyn was looking at him with more hostility than she usually did and she had a protective arm around Rickon, as if something or someone was going to hurt him. As they dismounted and the stable hands led the horses away, she strode over to them.

"Ned. I'm sorry. A raven came from King's Landing. Jon Arryn is dead. I'm so sorry Ned." she said. Then, taking a breath she continued. "Robert is coming north. To Winterfell. He intends to name you Hand." At that, Ned's expression darkened briefly. "And...and there's something else. Something from my sister." she said, casting a sidelong glance at Tybolt.

Getting the message quickly, he bowed his head and walked away, leaving them alone.

"_Something is very wrong. Something is very, very wrong." _Tybolt thought darkly.

**Tregun: Tybolt was born in the same year as Robb Stark. I could be wrong but I think that Daenerys would be about the same age as Tybolt and Robb; however, a marriage between Tybolt and Daenerys would be impossible given her hatred for anything even remotely Lannister. I have thought about marrying him to Margaery (the Reach and the West would be quite formidable together), but whether anything happens...you'll have to wait and see. :)**

**Iltalian: Thanks! He rebelled because he was arrogant and thought that he could win against Robert, who in his view was an inexperienced boy. Jaime was a member of the Kingsguard so he would be fine – he has Tybolt as his heir – and he knows (or thinks) that Cersei would be unharmed because of Jon Arryn.**

**Guest(s): Tybolt will (hopefully) end up as a mixture of his father, Jaime and Tyrion; he will have honour but nowhere near as much as Eddard (just enough to think twice before slaughtering people at an inappropriate place – hint, hint). But no, he won't end up anything like Theon.**

**Hi guys, I am so sorry for not updating for so long but I have been really busy with family stuff, so yeah... not much of an excuse but anyway. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Leave a comment telling me what you think!**


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